


Needed

by Lindzzz



Series: The Evil Boyfriends Series [15]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Angry Sex, Arguing, Fighting, Get Some, M/M, Top Jack, yeaahh jack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-14
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-12-11 20:42:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/803077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lindzzz/pseuds/Lindzzz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which heated words are exchanged and Jack wants to make one thing clear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Needed

**Author's Note:**

> This was done for my darling Besteck's birthday! She requested Jack topping the hell out of Pitch, and who am I to deny her?
> 
> Barely beta'd, so heads up for possible typo's!

“You can’t go back there anymore.”  
  
It’s not the first time Jack has heard it, it’s not the third or even the fifth.  And before he had been able to brush it off with a flippant rebuttal and a sure smile.    
  
Now? He’s sick of it.  Sick of Pitch telling him where he can and cannot go, who he can talk to.  
  
The cavern is usually welcoming and warm, it’s home and safety and security and everything else Jack wants. But now it’s stifling and claustrophobic.  Jack is hyper aware of the roof over his head and the cloying heat curling around him. It wraps around him and instead of cradling him, it squeezes at him, clenches his chest and contains him.  
  
Pitch doesn’t even look at him.  His face was perfectly blank as Jack came tumbling out of the tunnels that dumped him back home. Cottontail had decided that he’d had enough of Jack and barely gave any warning before stomping his foot as soon as Jack landed somewhere.  But hey, Jack had been allowed to talk at him and generally make a cheerful nuisance of himself for almost three hours before that.  For all of Bun’s grousing, they had been having FUN.    
  
He’s still grinning and quietly giggling to himself ( _the final straw that got him kicked out may have involved a hill, a couple stone eggs, and an unexpected patch of ice_ ) until he sees Pitch’s face, calm and cool as he watches Jack pick himself off the floor and go quiet.  
  
Pitch’s eyes darted over him, face neutral even as they burned over Jack.  Pausing here and there to take in the little details.  
  
Grass stains here, a couple flower petals in his hair.  A bit of color on his hands from where he had tried starting a paint fight ( _and had almost succeeded._ )  
  
He expects rage again, maybe if he’s lucky he’ll get thrown into a wall and roughed up a bit ( _hey, he can hope_.)  Instead Pitch narrows his eyes briefly, then looks away, turning to go back to his globe and schemes.  
  
“You can’t go back there anymore.”  Final.  Done.  That’s all he says.  
  
And Jack sinks his nails into the wood of his staff, grits his teeth while ice crackles from his hands.  
  
“Why?  Scared I won’t come back?”  
  
Pitch pauses for only a second, the shadows growing ever so slightly before he continues walking and turns to sit on a low broken wall.  “No, I know you’ll always come back, you have to.  I just don’t trust them.”  
  
He’s so calm.  He says it like there was never any question of Jack leaving.  Like Jack will alway come heel and stay and do as he’s told.  
  
 _‘You have to...’_  
  
Jack makes himself stay still, if he screams then Pitch will only mock him.  He has to stay calm, has to stay controlled.  The ice crackles along his staff and he watches that instead of looking up.  If he looks up, if he sees how infuriatingly calm and assured Pitch is he might just explode..  
  
“Sometimes,” Jack says slowly, “I wonder why I stay.”  
  
That gets Pitch’s attention.  He goes still, every shadow on him darkening until he’s almost entirely shrouded. Except for his eyes, fixed silver and gold on Jack.  Pitch doesn’t move, but that’s always when he’s at his most dangerous.  
  
“Because you can’t leave.”  He says coolly.    
  
No question.  
  
It’s not an order.  Not even a threat.  Just a statement of fact.  
  
Jack grits down, grinds his teeth and looks up sharply.  Luminous eyes narrow at him in response, daring him, challenging him.  
  
“You think so huh?”  Jack sounds a lot more calm than he feels.  
  
Pitch stands slowly, stalking towards Jack with evenly measured steps, eyes burning into him.  “And where would you go?”  He says silkily, “You think your little Guardian friends would take you in?  How long would you last before you snapped?  Before you went MAD with their little games and their talk of wonder and light and hope. You've seen too much of the world to put yourself with them.”  
  
He closes in, starts to circle Jack like a shark.  The air grows heavy and thick and Jack can feel knives crawling up his spine.  He grips his staff tighter and glares at Pitch, refuses to let the mounting paranoia get to him.  
  
It’s been a long time since Pitch’s little tricks worked on him.  
  
“Or maybe you’ll try going out on your own.”  Pitch continues, voice overly light.  “Is that what you want to do Jack?  Go back to how you were before?  What was that like, I must have forgotten.”  Pitch circles in closer, leans over Jack from behind and rests his sharp chin on Jack’s shoulder.  His other shoulder is covered in a large hand and warm breath ghosts over Jack’s ear.  
  
Any other time?  It would be nice, Jack would lean into it and know it was comforting.  Pitch would wrap around him and Jack would laugh at the breath tickling his neck.  
  
But right now it’s a claim, it’s a show of power and a mocking caress.  
  
Pitch’s voices is soft, almost pityingly sweet in his ear.  “But you haven’t, have you Jack?  You never forgot.”  
  
The air is thick, it seizes in his lungs and makes Jack have to suck in against the tight lump in his chest.  Pitch makes a soft, satisfied sound and continues, the hand on Jack’s shoulder letting go to wrap down and around his chest.  
  
“Ohh yes you never forgot.  How many other spirits did you try to talk to?  I’m sure they entertained you for a little, but they never really saw what you were.  To them you’re nothing but an annoyance, something that gets in the way.”  Pitch’s arm comes around to grab the opposite shoulder.  Fingers sink bruises into Jack’s skin as Pitch leans back and yanks him around to face him.  He hates being pushed around but Jack allows it, glare ready to face Pitch’s small, sharp smile.  
  
“You won’t leave because I’m the only one who really sees you.  Because without me you’re just a hollow and lost little wisp on the wind.  You won’t leave because you’re afraid.  Your fear is screaming, and you’re so caught up and blind to it that it’s almost a pity. You’re paralyzed by it, you’re SATURATED in it.”  
  
Jack stares at him, feels the air turn to ice in his lungs.  He’s raw and peeled and feels like he was just skinned by those eyes and calm, steady words.  They scrape on him and he gasps in air as he remembers.  Remembers wandering on the winds, wondering if he was real, remembers how nonchalant the other spirits were and the odd stares he got as he nearly went into a panic when someone talked to him.  The way his insides were scooped out by every person who walked through him and every being who walked away from him.  
  
But that’s not all he remembers.  And even as he struggles to get air into his chest he huffs it back out on a laugh.  
  
Pitch’s eyes widen slightly and he lets go of Jack’s shoulder, blinking in surprise as Jack’s laugh goes stronger.  
  
“I’M afraid!?”  Jack spits.  “Me?  Hi there, pot, call me kettle!”  Pitch frowns at the phrase and Jack doesn’t give him a second to recover.  
  
“Yeah I remember, I also remember who I AM!  I have a purpose outside of you!  I have a past and I have something to build on!  You don’t even have that!  You’re NOTHING without me.”  He’s never said it before, never admitted it and never put it into words.  But he FEELS how true it is and he can feel the knowledge of it filling him, making him grin as Pitch steps back, staring at him like he’s something new.  
  
“You don’t have anything of your own!”  Jack hisses, “You don’t even have your own memories to fall back on!”  
  
Pitch snarls, teeth sharp, “Don’t grasp at straws Jack. I don’t have any memories TO own! I was always-”  
  
“Bullshit!”  Jack snaps, “That’s bullshit and you know it!  What about that stupid little trinket you always carry around?”  
  
Pitch freezes, hand flying up and clenching on his chest over the spot where he always keeps the small, golden locket.  “That’s not-”  
  
“That one that you just sit and stare at for hours.”  Jack walks forward, feels the rush as Pitch takes a step back.  “The one that you just rub your thumb over like you’re going to open it and then never. open.”  
  
Pitch hisses, eyes bright and almost panicked as his fingers clench protectively over where the locket rests.  “That doesn’t have anything to do with-”  
  
“You’re terrified of that thing!  You said yourself that you carry it around because it scares you!  And you always had it, always drag it wherever you go and then try to tell me you weren’t anyone?  That you don’t have a past? Mr. ‘I was always the fear’, too afraid to even look inside a crummy locket.”  Jack keeps going forward, ice trailing behind him as Pitch backs up and snarls at him.  
  
“You’re pathetic”  Jack growls.  “You can’t even face the possibility that you had something.  Look at you!  Hiding and cowering and scheming in your shadows to get back at the Guardians. When you found me you were barely a shade.  You were fading and were going to KEEP fading and getting lost in your own head.  You need me. You need me to cling on and to make you feel like SOMETHING believes in you.”  That one stings Jack, it’s familiar, too familiar.  But the difference is that Jack already KNEW why he needed Pitch, while Pitch doesn’t admit to needing this just as badly.  
  
He doesn’t know why he’s pushing.  He knows that he probably could have just laughed off Pitch’s order at the beginning of all this and it would have been business as usual.  But Pitch is backing away from him, looking lost and terrified and enraged as his back hits the wall.  
  
It’s horrible, he hates it when Pitch is hurt hates it when Pitch is unhappy.  
  
But Jack is the one doing this.  Jack has this power, has Pitch silent and shocked and wrecked because Pitch. Needs. Jack.

  
Something snaps in Pitch’s eyes.  They narrow and sharpen and his whole body twists.  He lets out an animal roar and blackness comes hurtling out at Jack.  
  
But Jack is ready, he’s seen Pitch fight, doesn’t even need to think about it before he’s shooting frost at the shadow, dodging it and letting it shatter into the floor behind him.    
  
“You would be a whisper on the wind without me!”  Pitch howls, pulling his scythe from the air, “You’re only here because I pitied you!”  He swings and throws himself at Jack, who bares his teeth and brings shards of ice to his hands.  He dodges the scythe, yells wordlessly as he flings the razor sharp crystals at Pitch.    
  
“You can’t even stand me leaving for more than a few days!”  Jack yells with another volley of shards.  “You can hardly breathe without me!”  
  
Pitch dodges and Jack pushes in, takes the chance to hook his staff around Pitch’s legs and yank, shoving with the wind while he pulls back.  He can’t keep the triumphant smile off his face as Pitch goes down with an enraged scream, shadows writhing while he struggles to get himself back up.  
  
Jack doesn’t give him the chance, he flies forward, lands hard with one knee on Pitch’s chest.  He’s always giving in, always being the one to placate Pitch and keep him calm and reassure him and he’s sick of it.  
  
Pitch grunts in surprise at the knee in his sternum, he’s prone and on his back and he’s going to listen for once in his damned life!  
  
“You need me.”  Jack snarls, feeling the ice crusting over his words.  “You’re nothing but some desperate scrap of shadow clutching at the fears of little children without me!  I brought you back to what you are now!  I’m the only one who knows you well enough to put up with your stupid shit!”  
  
He grabs the front of Pitch’s robe, ignores the shocked and enraged sputtering as he yanks up and makes Pitch look at him.  “You’re MINE.”  
  
The silence is deafening.  
  
Jack can hear his own panting as a distant sound over the pounding of his heart, other than that there’s quiet.  The rage is gone from Pitch’s face, and instead he’s staring up at Jack looking like he was just slapped. His eyes are wide and shocked and his mouth keeps opening and closing on something to say.  
  
Jack bares his teeth and tightens the fist in Pitch’s robe.  He can feel something blazing beneath his skin like electricity and his eyes dare Pitch to argue with him, to try and deny it.  
  
Pitch’s next breath leaves him like it was punched from his lungs and his inhale is a slow, drawn out hiss.  His eyes sharpen and narrow and he snarls back at Jack while reaching up to grab a fistful of shirt.  
  
“Yes.”  he growls, wrenching Jack down into a bruising kiss.  
  
It’s more of a crash and harsh bite than a real kiss.  Jack gets both hands into Pitch’s robe and sinks his teeth into the warm mouth under him.  He bites frost into Pitch’s lips and licks ice against his tongue.  He can feel the growl resonate against his teeth before he hears it and he bites down harder when Pitch shifts beneath him.  The hand in his shirt twists, tries to throw him off balance and he bites hard enough to split Pitch’s lip in warning.  
  
Pitch gasps and snarls, “Jack-”  
  
“Shut up!”  He isn’t going to get pushed around, he’s SICK of being pushed around.  He moves along Pitch’s jaw, down to his neck and drags his teeth the whole way.  Pitch’s skin is burning against his lips and tongue, blazing hotter when he bites down over the fluttering pulse. The skin breaks and he can taste a hot metallic tang on his tongue but it’s not enough!  He sucks on the mark, growling in frustration because he can’t make Pitch bleed, can’t leave oozing and angry marks over that dark skin like Pitch always marks him.  
  
Pitch’s head tilts back, breath coming in strained and thready.  
  
“Jack, you-”  
  
Jack shoves down, slams Pitch into the floor hard and can’t bring himself to feel bad at the pained grunt and wince he gets.  “I told you to shut up!  You’re always talking!  You fucking never stop talking!”  
  
There are hands grasping at his shoulders and yanking him back down, sharp teeth nipping into his bottom lip and pulling.  Jack bites back just as hard, he keeps one hand splayed on Pitch’s chest to hold him down while Jack moves over him.  He doesn’t really think of how quickly Pitch opens his thighs to accommodate him.  How easily Pitch hooks long legs over Jack’s hips and arches up under him.  
  
His head is full of static and anger.  He’s not even sure what he’s doing but he bites down into Pitch’s shoulder.  Slides his hands underneath the dark robe and bites harder when Pitch grabs at his hair with a shocked moan.  
  
Jack moves his mouth over Pitch’s chest, leaving a trail of harsh dark marks while his hands explore the heated skin.  He doesn’t get many chances to really FEEL Pitch.  Everything’s always a rush of hands on him and holding him down and usually he can only grab onto something and hang on for dear life.  
  
But for once Pitch is shutting up and paying attention, he’s panting and dazed and finally letting Jack explore.  And Jack wants to leave traces of himself everywhere.  He doesn’t have claws, doesn’t have jagged teeth; but he can still drag his nails over Pitch’s ribs, can send tendrils of frost swirling like lace over dark skin while he leaves black bruises with his mouth.  
  
Pitch twists and makes a strained noise.  The legs around Jack’s hips hitch up and tighten, drawing him in closer. And on the one hand it makes Jack painfully aware of the searingly hot erection now pressed against his own; but on the other hand, Pitch doesn’t get to be demanding right now.  
  
He grabs onto the slim hips, digs his nails in and pulls up hard.  “Hold still! God do you ever stop moving?”  Pitch doesn’t get a chance to answer, he only gets a glare in before Jack is kissing him again.  He pushes his tongue in past Pitch’s lips, feels like he’s melting in how unbearably hot the inside of his mouth is.  Jack grinds his hips down and it’s not quite enough, not through their pants but God it’s still good, especially when Pitch jerks and actually whines into his mouth.  
  
Jack runs his hands over the top of Pitch’s pants, growling when he can’t find a clasp or tie or anything.  How did his clothes even work?  
  
“Take these off.”  He orders, tugging insistently on Pitch’s hips.  
  
Pitch snorts and looks up at him with a thin smile.  “What?  Too difficult for you?”   
  
Jack is pretty sure he’s trying to look condescending but the effect is ruined by his glazed eyes and the fact that he barely pants the words out.  
  
“Take them off.”  Jack repeats, “Or I’m going to leave you here.”    
  
He means it, doesn’t WANT to, and he’d really, really rather not leave.  But he is not going to let Pitch take control of this.  There are a few heartbeats of quiet as they glare at each other, Pitch narrows his eyes and huffs in annoyance.  
  
“Fine.”  Pitch mutters, he gestures with a hand and the shadows fall away from him, leaving nothing but the robe and hot skin under Jack’s hands.  
  
He has to pause just to look at it all.  The way the robe falls open, leaving a strip of dark grey skin covered in bruises and wet from the melted remains of Jack’s ice.  Jack brushes his fingers down.  He starts at the dip of Pitch’s collar bone, dances down the sternum to the hollow beneath Pitch’s ribs and the flat plane of his stomach jumping under Jack’s hand.  His fingers leave swirls of frost and Pitch hisses as they trace over his chest.  
  
“Get on with it!”  
  
“Shut up.”  Jack replies calmly, not looking up from the patterns he’s brushing over Pitch’s sharp hips.  
  
Pitch growls and buries his fingers in Jack’s hair, twists and yanks him down into another violent kiss.  “Now!”  He snarls.  
  
Jack snarls back and bites hard enough that Pitch’s hands spasm and clutch at his shoulders instead.  Jack grabs the thin wrists, twists and shove and he’s pretty sure he just has the element of surprise on his side for this, but that’s enough to get Pitch’s hands slammed down on either side of his head.  Before Pitch can fight back Jack freezes them in place, coating Pitch’s entire forearms with ice.  
  
“You seem to think,”  He pants, glaring into Pitch’s wide eyes, “that this is about what YOU want.”  
  
And that’s how it always is isn’t it?  It’s always what Pitch wants, how Pitch wants it, when Pitch wants it.  Everything is always focused on Pitch and what will make PITCH happy.    
  
“Not this time,” Jack murmurs, leaning down to mouth at Pitch’s neck again and smiling to himself when Pitch presses his hips up to him and groans.  
  
“Jack-!”  
  
Jack nips at the skin under Pitch’s jaw, sucking a new bruise over the bite, “I swear Pitch I WILL gag you!”  
  
Pitch twists, arms straining against the ice while he pants.  He always had to touch, always has to get his hands all over everything.  
  
Jack grins and drags his tongue over Pitch’s pulse while he reaches down to tug his pants down.  He barely bites back his own groan when he finally frees his erection and feels the heat of Pitch pressing against the cold length of it.   
  
He wants that heat around him, pulling him in and giving way to him.  
  
“Oil”  he gasps, “I know you always keep that oil in your robe somewhere, where is it?”  
  
Pitch groans and shakes his head, eyes screwed shut.  “No, no don’t need it.  I want it just like this Jack, don’t want anything-”  
  
“I don’t care what YOU want!”  Jack snaps.  “I’m not going to fuck you dry!”  
  
God.  He’s actually going to do this.  His mouth goes dry and he has to swallow and catch his breath, gasping against the curve of Pitch’s neck.   
  
He knew that this was where he was headed, but it’s different to say it.  
  
He’s going to fuck Pitch.  
  
 _Hell yes_ he is.  
  
“Oil,” he repeats, barely keeping the grin down this time, “or I freeze your whole body down and leave you here like this.”  
  
Pitch makes a strangled, high noise and writhes against the ice on his arms. “Just-- just reach into the robe. It should appear in your hand if you think about it-”  
  
Magic.  Stupid freakin magic.  Jack winces as he reaches down and feels part of his arm actually go INTO the shadow of Pitch’s robe.  But sure enough, his hand closes on the small bottle that Pitch started carrying around ‘just in case.’  
  
He has to breathe slowly while he pours it onto his palm.  Has to take a few moments to pull himself together and the way Pitch is arching and rolling impatiently under him is not helping. Jack clenches one hand on Pitch’s thigh while he slicks himself with the other.  The oil is warm from sitting against Pitch for so long and it’s already almost too much. He pauses for a second, wondering if he should take more time to prepare Pitch.  Jack knows first hand how much this can hurt.   
  
Then he remembers that sharp little smile, the cocky twist to Pitch’s lips,   
  
_‘Because without me you’re just a hollow and lost little wisp on the wind.’_  
  
Jack grits his teeth. Oh this will definitely hurt.    
  
He sits back on his heels and yanks up on Pitch’s hips until the taller man’s lower body is practically in Jack’s lap.  It’s already swelteringly hot and Pitch gasps on each breath.  
  
Jack leans forward, braces his hands on each side of Pitch’s slim middle as he lines up.  
  
“Just remember, you asked for it.” He growls.  And without any further warning his thrusts in.  
  
Pitch throws his head back, choking on a sound that’s somewhere close to pain but closer to something else.  Jack grinds his teeth and leans down until his forehead rests on Pitch’s heaving chest.  God it’s too hot, his whole world is reduced to a tight and gripping heat and he’s going to explode right now if he doesn’t pull himself together.  Each of his gasps leaves a thin layer of frost quickly melting over Pitch, barely staying for a second before it gives into the heat Pitch is emitting.  
  
“Jack-”  Pitch breathes.  It’s strained and hoarse and Jack could listen to Pitch saying his name like that forever.  
  
He groans and rolls his hips, biting his lip against the sensations threatening to overwhelm him.  Pitch makes another choked noise and thrusts up to meet Jack, arms straining against the ice holding them down while he moans and writhes.  
  
“Jack, Jack I want you deeper want to feel you in me want you to fill me Jack I need-”  
  
Jack growls and snaps his hips, “Shut. Up.”  
  
It actually works.  Pitch breaks off mid-word into a startled whine as Jack starts slamming into him.  Jack goes harder, not even trying to hide the noises coming from his throat as he fucks into Pitch with everything he’s got.  
  
Pitch bucks under him, panting out Jack’s name with a hitch on each thrust and still straining against the ice on him.  
  
“Jack, Jack please let me--I need to touch you need to feel--Jack!”  He breaks off when Jack bites the skin over his heart, digging his teeth in and hanging on as he pounds into Pitch.  
  
Jack can feel the pressure coiling low in him.  A burning cold that makes Pitch’s heat almost too much, brings him right to that edge of pain that makes him gasp  and shake while his hips start to stutter.  Luckily he can hear the way Pitch’s breathing is becoming more labored, each breath growing reedy and desperate while he meets each of Jack’s thrusts.  
  
“Come on come on come on-” Jack mutters, reaching down between them to wrap a hand around Pitch’s white hot erection.  Pitch actually keens at the contact, barely making it through two strokes before he’s shaking and leaving strips of hot fluid on Jack’s stomach.  
  
Jack whines in response, he’s close he’s so close and Pitch is going to melt him he is literally going to melt inside all this heat.  
  
There’s a hand clawing at his back and Jack realizes in a distant way that Pitch managed to find a way out of the ice.  But he can’t really be too upset about it when there are nails raking down his back and urging him on.  
  
“In me Jack come on I want it, want to feel you come in me -- come on Jack that’s it that’s it you’re so good-”  
  
His orgasm rips through him, makes his sob as he slams his hips into Pitch and holds them there, shaking and trembling as he comes and keeps coming into that impossible heat.  
  
“God-”  He gasps, collapsing down onto his elbows and dropping his head down onto Pitch’s sternum.  The hands on his back soften, turn to soothing strokes while the chest under his head heaves and shakes.  
  
“That-”  Jack gasps, then shakes himself and gathers his thoughts before he tries again. “I can see why that’s always your first answer whenever you’re mad.”  
  
Pitch makes a strange, muffled grunt of assent.  
  
“And I’m still so mad at you but right now I don’t even care.”  
  
Another mumbled noise.  Jack blinks and lifts his head up just enough to look up at Pitch, whose sprawled and staring in a daze at the cages high above them.  
  
“I think this is the longest I’ve seen you go after sex without talking.”  Jack notes.  “Did I break you?”  
  
Pitch makes another “mmng” noise and flops his hand against Jack in a way that may have been a smack.  
  
Jack’s eyebrows go up and he feels a slow grin forming.  “I totally did.  This is great!  I feel way better now!”  
  
Pitch manages a growled “quiet”, though he still runs his fingers through Jack’s hair.  
  
“Yeah whatever,”  Jack grins, lying his head back down onto Pitch’s chest.  “I found the best way to get you to shut up.”  
  
Pitch doesn’t make any sound of argument against that. **  
**


End file.
